


Sweet Child of Mine

by kikkimax



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:06:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikkimax/pseuds/kikkimax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair's back, but something's just not right. Jim discovers he has deeper feelings for his Guide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Child of Mine

## Sweet Child of Mine

by Kikkimax

Author's website:  <http://www.zirask.org/>

I don't own them, I wish I did.

Thanks to Keerah, as always.

Takes place about a week after the events of Quantum Luck. If you haven't read that one, this probably won't make any sense. Warning for child abuse issues.   


This story is a sequel to: Quantum Luck 

* * *

Sweet Child of Mine 

//Skin on skin, hot and moist with sweat in a full body hug. Frantic rocking and arching against a lean, muscled body. A mouth on his neck, licking, biting, sucking. Desperate kisses trailing up to his face, seeking his lips. Ravishing them. Leaving him breathless, hungry for more. Hands rough and gentle, owning him. Strong hands. A man's hands. Blue eyes full of love and need. Jim's eyes....\\\ 

"Jim!" Blair cried out as he jolted off his pillow and into firm hands on his shoulders. He blinked rapidly to clear his head and separate fevered dream from reality. The hands remained. "Jim," he moaned and leaned into the touch. 

"Easy, Chief," Jim said, concern etched on his face. "It's over now. It was just a dream." 

"No," Blair cried out at the loss. He reached a hand to Jim's bare chest and was disappointed to find that it wasn't flushed with passion, but cool and dry in the night air and that he was the only one sweating. "It was just a dream," he confirmed, snatching his hand away self consciously and dropping his head. 

"It's okay," Jim soothed, running his hands down Blair's upper arms. "Everything's fine." 

Blair shifted uncomfortably beneath the covers and glanced from under his lashes to see if Jim had noticed his inelegant state. But Jim only seemed concerned, not shocked or repulsed. His eyes weren't the same as in the dream. Or were they? 

"Sorry I woke you again," Blair mumbled, counting this as the third time in a week that he had bothered the Sentinel during the night. He hoped there weren't others that he just hadn't fully awakened for. 

"You want to talk about it?" Jim asked kindly. 

"Talk about what?" Blair questioned as he rearranged the covers surreptitiously. 

"The nightmare," Jim clarified with a patient smile. 

"Nightmare? Right. The dream. No, I, uh, don't really remember it much now anyway," Blair lied, as every touch, kiss, lick was burned into his brain. 

Jim gave him a doubtful look and released his shoulders. "It's still early. Why don't you try to go back to sleep," he said as he rose to his feet. 

"Thanks, man. For checking on me." Although stung by the loss of the touch, Blair prayed that Jim would just go away. 

Jim stopped in the door, backlit by the early morning sun. He didn't turn around as he spoke. "I thought I'd lost you, Blair. If I have to spend all night, every night checking on you, I'll be glad to do it. I'm just so thankful to have you back." Then he was gone. 

Blair wallowed in his frustration as he flopped back down onto the bed. He counted to ten before sliding one hand under the cover to grasp his still raging hard-on, willing it to go away. 

"What the hell's wrong with me," he admonished himself under his breath. He closed his eyes and tried to think of world hunger or dead kittens or the sticky film on the floor at the movie theater. 

Instead, he thought of Jim; the other Jim, Dr. Sandburg-Robart's Jim. The Jim who had touched him that way and caressed him and tried so awfully hard to kiss him, even after he knew that Blair was not his own. He had made it perfectly clear with nothing more than a glance that he wanted to fuck Blair through the mattress. Looking back Blair realized that other than desperately wanting to get back to his own Jim, he wasn't all that adverse to the idea. 

And now he was having these steamy, erotic dreams about Jim, not even sure which one really. Except that they didn't feel like dreams at all. They felt like memories. 

* * *

Jim paused in the middle of the stairs to listen. "What the hell's wrong with me," Blair whispered so quietly that if Jim hadn't had all of his hearing directed on the room below, he would have missed it completely. He stalled in indecision. Go up the stairs or down? Blair sighed and his breathing slowed, apparently calming down. Still concerned, Jim went up, but continued to keep an ear on his partner. 

Ever since Blair had returned from that other place, Jim still couldn't think of it in concrete terms, he had been withdrawn and prone to dreams that seemed to disorient and confuse him. Worse, whenever Jim tried to comfort him, Blair pushed him away as if embarrassed by the attention. Jim had come so close to losing his guide that he swore he wouldn't let him go now. He'd find a way to break through the barrier that Blair seemed to be building day by day. He wasn't about to give up his partner without a fight. 

* * *

Blair felt crappy and sleep deprived when he finally woke up, but a cold shower seemed to help. Jim was nowhere around as he made his way into the kitchen. He nodded in approval that his thoughtful roommate had left him coffee. After dropping two pieces of bread into the toaster, he poured himself a cup of java and savored it slowly. When the toast popped up he opened a jar of blackberry jam and spread it on.... 

//"Don't make a mess, Blair. Let me help you." 

"I can do it," Blair argued stubbornly as his tiny hands smeared the bread thick with honey. 

"I know you can. You're a big boy, aren't you?" 

Blair nodded and took a large bite of his treat, honey dripping down his chin. "When's Naomi coming home?" 

"You miss your mom, don't you?" 

"Sometimes. It's not so bad. I've still got you, Daddy." 

"You'll always have me, sweet child of mine."\\\ 

Blair dropped the toast from nerveless fingers and watched in a daze as it tumbled to the floor. 

"Funny how it always lands jelly-side down," Jim teased as he came through the door with the newspaper. 

"Huh?" Blair startled as he turned toward the voice, eyes wide and mouth open. 

"You okay?" Jim asked worriedly as he moved closer. "You look like you're a million miles away." 

"I think I was," Blair breathed as he stepped over the mess in the floor and went to sit down. He pulled out a chair and sank into it, dropping his head into his hands, overcome by the weirdness, yet somehow accepting that these things really happened. 

Jim placed the paper on the counter and quietly cleaned up the jelly with a wet paper towel after tossing the toast into the trash. "Chief?" he said as he approached Blair at the table and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"I should clean that up," Blair muttered as he tried to shrug away. 

Jim gently restrained him by leaning into the touch. "It's okay. I already got it." 

"You did?" Blair asked as he raised his head and looked to confirm that the mess had been taken care of. "Sorry." 

"What's wrong, Blair? You're as pale as a ghost and you're shaking all over." 

"I don't know what's happening to me," Blair admitted, almost undone by Jim's concern. He made the decision to let him in on his secret. At least part of it, anyway. "I just keep having these episodes. I'd call them dreams, except I'm not always asleep." 

"What? Like night terrors or something?" Jim tried to understand. 

Blair laughed nervously. "Not exactly. I mean, they're not scary or anything. They're just.... intense." 

"Intense how?" 

"It's kind of a deja vu thing," Blair tried to explain. "Like reliving a memory. Only, they're not my memories." 

"Whose memories are they?" Jim asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"His memories. The other me. You know, Dr. Sandburg." 

Jim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He knew from recent experience what it felt like to offer a theory so far out of left field that nobody believed him. All his instincts screamed that Blair's idea simply wasn't possible, but he wanted desperately to give his partner the benefit of the doubt. "Okay, how could that happen?" 

"Gee, Jim. I don't know," Blair said with more than a touch of sarcasm. "It's not like anyone's ever jumped around between realities before. Maybe it's a side effect of the quantum accelerator. I mean, maybe for one brief nanosecond we shared the same cosmic energy or something?" 

"Okay," Jim said, cautiously keeping incredulity out of his voice. 

"What if I brought some of him back with me?" Blair added, fighting to keep panic out of his voice. 

"Calm down. Even if you did, that wouldn't be so bad, would it? I mean, he was you right?" Jim reasoned. "He should have close to the same memories as you. How can you differentiate between your memories and his?" 

Blair guiltily wiped a hand over his face. "Um, I didn't tell you everything. It didn't seem important when I got back, and I wanted to spare you the details. The other reality was different. A lot different. You were still you, essentially, but I wasn't really me. Or I was the me I would have been if I'd been born into a rich family. I guess that was the big difference. I was a real ass. He was," Blair explained badly, leaving various bits of information out intentionally. 

Jim grimaced. "You lost me." 

"I know, I'm sorry. Things just weren't the same. I wasn't even your guide." 

"What?" 

"Yeah. I was, well he was this incredibly lucky, bratty, rich kid with a fancy sports car and an expensive apartment. Oh, man, you should have seen my office. I mean his office. And he had a double PhD and was an honorary cop. He knew his father, and he loved me. Him. His father loved him. Those are the memories that are coming through more now. Before it was just, um, the other ones," he added, dropping the volume considerably with each word of the last sentence. 

Jim shook his head, still blissfully ignorant. "What other ones?" 

"Not really important," Blair hedged. 

"Come on, Chief. Out with it," Jim urged, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, well aware that Blair was holding something back. "What aren't you telling me?" 

Blair cringed and looked away as his internal debate raged. If he told Jim the truth, Jim could conceivably have a less than positive reaction and they could lose their friendship. But Jim obviously knew he wasn't telling everything. That wouldn't wash either. "The other Jim and Blair; they were lovers," he blurted out at last. 

"Oh," Jim said as he awkwardly removed his hand from Blair's shoulder. "Lovers. And somehow you're reliving what? Intimate moments?" 

Blair nodded reluctantly. "Oh, yeah, apparently they... screwed around a lot." 

Jim looked stunned and took a couple of steps back to think. Blair dropped his head again and wished he could take back the last two minutes, second-guessing his decision to tell all. 

"So, these dreams or memories or whatever, when they're, um, involved... you watch?" Jim asked uncomfortably, trying hard to understand the situation. 

"No, Jim. It's like I'm there. It's like I'm him, that Bair," Sandburg answered softly, keeping his head down. "More like an active participant, in a non-freewill sort of way. While I experience it, I have no power to effect the situation." He listened as Jim walked away.... 

//"Don't you dare turn your back on me! I'm talking to you. You can't have it both ways." 

"You're asking too much. If I tell the world I'm a Sentinel I won't be able to do my job." 

"Fuck your job! This is important. I need you to come forward with your abilities when I publish my dissertation. If you don't, then all of this has been for nothing." 

"It's not for nothing! I love you!" 

"Love? Right. Tell that to your wife." 

"Blair, you know I'd do anything for you. I'd die for you." 

"I don't need you to die. I need you to verify my research. I'm not asking for all that much. I'll try to protect you, you know that. But if you want me, there's a price...."\\\ 

"Come on back, Chief. That's it, open your eyes. Look at me." 

Blair felt warm hands on his face and then on his shoulders. Slowly he looked up to see his partner's apprehensive expression. "Oh, God." 

The Sentinel released one hand and rocked back to rest on his heels where he had crouched down next to Blair's chair. The other hand held firm to Blair's shirt sleeve. "You scared me. I couldn't get you back," Jim breathed. 

"Sorry." 

Jim met Blair's wild looking eyes. "You were with him, weren't you?" 

Blair nodded ruefully. 

"And you were...?" Jim cleared his throat and gave a little punch in the air with his free hand. 

"Uh, no," Blair said with a startled laugh. "Not this time. It was a fight. An argument." 

Jim seemed relieved and released his death grip on Blair's shirt. "Oh. Good. At least one thing's the same in both realities." 

"He was such an evil little shit," Blair declared angrily. "So manipulative." 

"Who?" 

"Him. Me," Blair explained. 

"Him," Jim answered quietly as he stood and moved away again. "Never you." 

"This doesn't change anything between us," Blair declared, staring at his best friend's back. 

"I didn't say that it did," Jim rebutted unconvincingly as he wheeled back around. 

"You didn't have to," Blair replied coolly. "It's written all over your face." He scrambled to his feet and headed to the door. 

"Where are you going?" Jim asked as he stepped protectively into Blair's path, raising a hand, but not actually touching him. 

"I just need to get out of here for awhile," Blair explained, careful not to make eye contact as he swallowed compulsively. 

"Wait a minute. You haven't been cleared to drive yet since the explosion." 

"I wasn't even in the explosion and you know it." 

"Yeah, but you shouldn't drive while your having these, these episodes, either. I'll take you where ever you want to go." 

"No. You don't have to do that. I just wanna take a walk. I'll be fine. Please," he rasped out, unable to keep his gaze from Jim's face any longer, unwillingly laying bare his soul in his eyes. 

Jim just stood there for a moment studying his face before he stepped aside to let him pass, reading the frantic need to escape. Reluctant to force his will on the younger man, he let him go, knowing as well as Blair did that everything was going to be different now. 

* * *

Blair immediately regretted not grabbing a jacket. The sun was warm, but a cool breeze cut through his shirt straight to his skin. He wrapped his arms around himself as he put his head down and began to walk, no destination in mind. Carefully he kept his mind neutral as he was beginning to suspect that the episodes were triggered by his own thoughts and emotions. When he was blocks away from the loft and out of Sentinel supervision, he raised his head and looked around. A small crowd was gathered at the corner waiting for the light to change. 'Don't cross' changed to 'cross' and Blair stepped from the curb with the rest of the people, jostled by the moving bodies.... 

\\\Panic. Fear. A crush of bodies pushing and shoving. 

"Daddy!" Blair cried as he was knocked to his knees and stepped on by the other children in the rush to get out of the smoke filled building. 

His lungs struggled for air as the crowd thinned. He was too afraid, too disoriented to move, so he lay where he fell, curling into a tight, protective ball. When the hands touched him, he didn't respond even as he was carried to safety. 

At the hospital, he lay on the stretcher, not talking, not moving. Waiting for the only person who would make him feel safe....// 

* * *

Half an hour slowly passed while Jim pondered the new dimensions of the Sandburg zone, dimensions he had only ever considered in his deepest, most private thoughts. He had always considered Blair to belong with him, but he categorized it in a Sentinel/Guide sort of way. He would never act on any other impulse he may have had. Living in such close proximity to another vibrant, healthy human being was bound to have little by-products of the occasional touch or gaze that could be misinterpreted. Blair was just Blair. He was a masterpiece of movement and sound and scent and God help him, Jim had noticed. And apparently Blair had noticed him noticing, because now with the dreams or whatever they were forcing the issue, he was uncomfortable in Jim's presence. 

Forty-five minutes later the phone rang, abruptly snapping Jim out of his self analysis. "Ellison," he said as he grabbed the receiver, praying that he wasn't about to be called in to work. He wanted... no, he needed to start a search for his wayward guide. 

"Jim, head over to the hospital," Simon said in a calm but serious voice. "I'll meet you there." 

"What happened?" Jim asked, holding his breath, instantly realizing that Blair was in trouble. 

"It's Blair." 

"What happened?" he repeated insistently. 

"I'm not sure. Ricky Stewart from EMS called here looking for you. He said Sandburg just spaced out in the middle of the street...." 

"I'm on my way," Jim said as he hung up the phone. 

* * *

A large hand rested on his back and Blair let the warmth of it seep into him. "Daddy?" he asked as he rolled over. 

Simon looked startled and pulled back slightly. "Sandburg? It's me," he said gruffly to hide his worry. 

Blair blinked once and seemed to snap out of whatever the hell had been wrong with him. He grimaced as he sat up and accidentally pulled at his IV. "Shit," he muttered. "What happened?" 

"What's the last thing you remember?" Simon asked and settled on top of the little rolling stool that was in the room. 

"I was crossing the street and.... Oh, no. I guess I didn't make it." 

"Apparently you froze up and no one could get you to move. Somebody called an ambulance and they brought you here to the ER. The doctor thinks you had some kind of seizure or something." 

"Psychogenic fugue," Jim said from the door. "That's what he's calling it now. At first they thought it was a petit mal seizure, but your EEG didn't show anything." 

"Psycho...?" Simon asked. 

"Psychogenic fugue," Jim repeated. "It's like a break from reality. He says it could have been caused by Blair's recent head injury, but more than likely it's a stress reaction to an emotional situation," he added guiltily. 

"We both know that I didn't really have a head injury," Blair sulked, settling back against the stretcher with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. 

"Yeah, but that's what's in your medical history. And I don't think he's gonna buy your version," Jim argued. "So I think we'd better say thanks a lot and head back home to figure this thing out." 

"Do I even want to know?" Simon asked quietly. 

"Do you believe that Blair was in an alternate reality and that his evil twin was the one that we held vigil over?" Jim inquired almost smugly, already knowing the answer. 

"Just smile and nod, Simon," Blair offered wearily with a wave of his fingers. "This too shall pass." 

"That's the best advice I've heard all day," Simon said, getting to his feet. "You okay?" 

Blair nodded and gripped Simon's outstretched hand. "Thanks for coming by, Simon." 

"Oh it's Simon now, is it? You called me `Daddy' earlier," Banks teased. 

"I didn't," Blair denied with such horror that Jim broke into a grin in spite of the situation. 

"Oh yes you did, child," Simon teased relentlessly. "And I'm never gonna let you forget it. Who's your Daddy?" 

"Sweet child of mine," Blair whispered distractedly, his forehead creased in concentration as he tuned out his friends. 

"Chief?" 

"Shit," Simon swore with concern. "He's out again." 

"It's okay, Simon, go on. I'll handle it," Jim said as he lowered the rail and sat on the edge of the stretcher. 

Simon closed the door as he left, shaking his head. 

"Come on, Chief. Follow my voice. Come back to me." 

Blair laughed unexpectedly. "I'm not zoned, man," he said with fond amusement. "I was just remembering something." 

"Stop scaring me, you bastard," Jim sighed. 

"He wasn't," Blair mused distractedly. "A bastard I mean. Technically, I guess he was. I don't think his father ever married Naomi, but at least he had a dad." 

"Do you think that maybe all this is happening because you're fixated on the other Blair?" Jim asked. "You do seem kind of obsessed with him right now." 

"I don't know," Blair admitted. "Maybe deep down I want what he had?" 

"The things? No. I doubt that. But maybe the relationships," Jim offered. 

"You think I want to jump your bones?" Blair asked in surprise, his eyes wide. 

"No," Jim answered quickly. "I was actually thinking more along the lines of your father. I mean his father. Dammit, now you've got me doing it, too," he explained awkwardly, and not entirely truthfully. 

"Oh," Blair said cautiously. "I don't want to lose our friendship over this. I don't want you to be uncomfortable around me." 

"Why would I be?" 

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because in my head I'm boffing someone who looks and sounds and is just like you? That might make you want to rethink our friendship." 

"Not gonna happen, Chief," Jim assured and soothed his hands over Blair's back... 

//Hands kneading his back, deep into the muscle almost to the point of pain. Fingers working away stress, spreading warm oil up and out over his shoulders, then down lower and lower until they brushed the crevice of his ass as they massaged and teased. 

"Wait. I'm not ready. I don't want to do this." 

"It's okay, shhh." 

Strong hands gently turned him onto his back and suddenly he was looking into blue eyes full of love and longing. 

"I won't rush you. We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." 

"I know. I love you."// 

Overwhelmed with gratitude and love, Blair pulled Jim in for a kiss. "What's wrong?" he questioned with a small, slightly hurt voice when Jim didn't respond to the press of his lips. 

"What are you doing?" Jim asked, grasping Blair by his wrists and gently forcing him to retreat. His face flushed and his eyes widened in shock and maybe a little anger. 

"I don't understand," Blair answered, the hurt more evident. "Oh." Comprehension dawned as Blair realized that they were in an examination room in the ER and not in Dr. Sandburg's bedroom. "Shit. I'm sorry, I just.... Sorry," he moaned miserably as he disentangled his wrists from Jim's clasp and rolled over to face the wall to hide his rampant blush. 

"The doctor was going to let me take you home, but I don't know, Chief. It's getting worse. I think we're in way over our heads here," Jim confessed, quickly backpedaling from his former opinion. 

"But you just said..." 

"I know, but now you don't even know where you are after you snap out of it," Jim explained, scared beyond reason. 

"What are we supposed to do?" Blair asked quietly. "We can't tell them what's going on. They won't believe us." 

"You're having more and more trouble distinguishing reality from fantasy...." 

"It's not fantasy!" Blair broke in, resentment in his low tone. 

"I know, I didn't mean it that way. I'm scared for you. I think you should stay in the hospital at least overnight." 

"Whatever," Blair sighed with humiliated resignation. 

Jim stood and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'll talk to the doctor." He waited for a response, but none came. 

Blair focused on the wall feeling embarrassed that he'd tried to kiss Jim and unexpectedly hurt that Jim had rebuffed him. He felt ashamed as he heard the door behind him open and close. Deeply, deeply ashamed 

//He caught his breath and waited, pretending to be asleep, hoping that the unwelcome visitor would just leave. Footsteps came closer and he jumped as a hand came down on his back, rubbing soft, sensuous circles. 

"Daddy?" he asked with dread, wondering when the person he had always counted on had become the one that make him cringe with shame and shake with fear. The depth of the betrayal was incomprehensible, the effects soul shattering. 

"My sweet, sweet boy..."\\\ 

* * *

Listening to the doctor's vague reassurances, Jim clenched his hands in frustration that he couldn't just explain the real reasons for his fears. He nodded and accepted that Blair would be discharged as there was nothing physically wrong with him. So intent on the doctor's words, Jim was startled along with everyone else when the violent screams started behind the door. 

Jim burst into the room followed closely by the doctor, a nurse and a security officer. They barely ducked the monitor hurled their way as Sandburg savagely trashed the room, sounding like a wounded animal between heart wrenching screams. Blood splattered from the traumatically disconnected IV and saline puddled in the floor from the tubing still attached to the bag. As Blair turned to rip the foam mattress off the stretcher Jim made his move and grabbed him around the chest and arms. 

"Don't touch me! Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" Blair shouted as he used Jim's arms to brace himself off the floor and kick viciously at the stretcher, the guard, or anything else that came within his reach. 

The doctor yelled something at the nurse, who quickly disappeared out the door. Jim struggled to hold on and finally the security guard managed to latch on to Blair's bare feet. The doctor joined in as well, catching the arm that Sandburg had struggled free. When the nurse got back, they maneuvered the twisting body over so that she could stab it in the hip with a long needle and inject the contents of the syringe. 

"Let me go!" Blair wailed as he wore himself out and his struggles began to wane. "Please, Jim. Put me down! I want to go home." 

Although distraught, Jim couldn't deny that Blair knew where he was and what was going on at the moment anyway. "Let him go," Jim ordered. 

"He's dangerous," the guard objected. 

"It'll take a lot longer than that for the medicine to kick in," the doctor warned. 

"Do it!" Jim insisted, holding on tighter as the group one by one released their grips on the writhing object in his arms. As the restraining hands freed him, Blair stopped shouting and began to weep, suddenly hanging limp in Jim's arms. 

The nurse deposited the needle in a red box on the wall and backed into the hall where a group of onlookers had begun to gather to peer into the room. She gave them an angry glare and scattered them with a scathing remark that Jim didn't quite catch as all his attention was still focused on Sandburg. 

"Let me go," Blair pleaded again. He pushed himself away as soon as Jim loosened his grip and launched himself into the corner. "Why? Why did he do that? Why?" he repeated to himself over and over in a wretched, hoarse voice. 

Jim knelt down in front of him and reached out a hand. Blair batted it away, but turned desolate, soulful eyes to him, tears still streaming down his face. "I didn't know," he cried, his chest still heaving from his outburst. He balled up his bloody hand and pounded against the wall angrily. "I didn't know." 

"Didn't know what, Chief?" Jim choked out as his heart broke, unable to ease his partner's pain. 

"I envied him," Blair spat back with self-loathing. "I... I hated him. I judged him. I didn't know." He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and began to rock, refusing to be comforted. Slowly the drug made its way into his bloodstream as he worked through his personal horror and grief that he seemed unable to share. 

Jim settled next to him, careful not to touch him for fear of setting him off again. He allowed Blair's need for distance to win out over his own urge to console. But his presence seemed to help and Blair slowly calmed down. When Jim looked down he was startled to find their fingers intertwined. While miles apart mentally, their bodies had responded instinctively, and Jim marveled at how natural it felt to hold Blair's hand. Blair didn't seem to notice at all. 

Finally the torrent of tears stopped and Sandburg stilled, staring blankly at the floor as the drug took effect. He didn't protest as the security guard and the doctor pulled him to his feet and placed him in a wheelchair. Jim rose with him, not relinquishing his hold. 

"Where are you taking him?" Jim asked quietly. 

The doctor cleared his throat. "I got him a room," he said uneasily. 

"You said there wasn't anything wrong with him," Jim accused, now wanting nothing more than to take his roommate home. 

"He's a danger to himself and others. I'm having him committed; involuntarily if necessary." 

Jim knelt in front of the wheelchair to seek permission or absolution or any acknowledgement of the situation at all, but Blair's eyes were vacant. Nodded his understanding to the doctor, Jim swallowed back the bile that he felt rise in his throat. As the orderly pushed the wheelchair towards the door, Jim had to release Blair's hand. There was a slight resistance and an almost inaudible whimper from Blair as the physical contact was broken. Then came an emotional withdrawal from the bond between them which Jim felt like a blow to his spirit. 

Simon was still in the lobby and he followed the group as they left the ER and headed toward the elevators. "What happened?" he asked quietly, a stunned expression on his face when he noticed Sandburg's condition. 

"Blair had a breakdown of some sort, I guess. He freaked out a little," Jim explained wearily. 

"A little?" 

Jim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "They're going to keep him." 

The elevator opened and emptied its human cargo and the orderly turned the wheelchair around and backed it in. 

The doctor blocked Jim and Simon from entering. "You can't go with him," he said, not unkindly. "Go home. There's nothing you can do for him tonight." 

Blair looked up with a bewildered expression just as the door closed. Jim swiftly moved forward, but it was too late. A low keening sounded in his ears as the numbers began to light up one by one marking the car's rise to the fourth floor. 

* * *

Simon waited with Jim while he listened in as Blair was admitted and settled into a `safe' room three floors away. The sporadic soft sobs eventually dissolved into drugged, almost silent sleep. Twenty minutes after the last sounds of despair had faded away Jim allowed Simon to usher him out to the truck. Walking away and leaving Blair knocked out and alone somewhere inside the psychiatric ward was the hardest thing Jim had ever done. 

"You want me to drive you home?" Simon offered, breaking into Jim's thoughts. 

"No, I'm okay," Jim insisted. "I'll need the truck to come back in the morning." 

"Jim," Simon sighed. "They won't let you in. I talked to the admitting nurse after the doctor came out and said that he was committing Sandburg. She told me that they didn't allow visitors for the first forty-eight hours during an involuntary psych eval." 

"I know. I just want to hear his voice. Make sure he's okay." 

"What if he's not?" Simon asked pointedly. 

"He will be," Jim said with more force than he felt, not sure who he was trying to convince. 

* * *

Blair woke on a mattress on the floor of a dingy little room covered by a well used blanket. All four walls were padded in a grayish-white, only the narrow, shatter-proof window on the door broke the dismal color theme. A video camera high in the corner was the only other object in sight. Feeling dizzy and disoriented as he sat up, Blair glanced anxiously around and wondered how long he had been out of it. 

"Jim?" he called out timidly, terrified that he had been abandoned by his friend for his unfortunate slip back in the ER. He held his breath as he waited, but wasn't all that surprised when no answer came. Most of the details of his hospital visit and subsequent outburst were fuzzy, but that particular memory remained crystal clear. Especially the look on Jim's face when he had kissed him. 

Although he didn't actually remember, he surmised that he had been hauled off to the funny farm for his behavior. In his imagination a padded cell was always starkly white and sterile looking. Reality was a bit of a letdown and even had an unpleasant odor buried under the smells of antiseptic and bleach that unhappily reminded him of his own physical needs. He pulled the thin blanket closer around his body feeling exposed in the backless hospital gown, almost overcome by his own vulnerability... 

//"Shhh. Don't cry, son. It's all right. Daddy loves you. You have to be quiet now..."\\\ 

"No!" Blair ground out between clenched teeth, forcing his mind back to reality by sheer strength of will. He couldn't risk losing it again if he had a hope in hell of getting out of here any time soon. Concentrating on the various aches and pains in his body, he used them to center his mind. His right hip burned, his arms and shoulders throbbed, and his feet were deeply bruised and swollen, especially the right one. All in all, it was a whole lot less painful than the memories of an abusive father that he'd never met. Or the friendship he had more than likely destroyed. Physical pain was a breeze in comparison. 

When he was certain that he was in control he looked up into the camera. "I've got to pee," he announced softly. 

Within a few minutes someone appeared at the door and handed him a plastic urinal. He took it without comment and turned his back to the door and the camera to relieve himself. When he finished the door opened again and he handed it back. 

"Thanks, man," he mumbled and moved stiffly on his sore feet back to the mattress. 

"How are you feeling?" a woman in scrubs asked as she and a large man entered the room behind him. 

"A little sore," Blair answered with a shrug. 

"Do you know where you are?" 

Blair snorted and glanced around the room. "That's pretty obvious." 

The woman smiled and nodded. "We need to get some blood. Then if you would like you can shower and get something to eat." 

"That sounds great," Blair agreed quickly as his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten in at least a day. "Well, not the blood part, but I'm down with a shower and some food." 

"You seem much better this morning." 

"Yeah," Blair sighed half-heartedly. "I had nowhere to go but up." 

* * *

Jim spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, deep in tortured thought. When he'd finally given up on his bed as the sun teased the morning sky, he found himself wandering into Blair's room. He was tired; mentally, physically and emotionally. He hadn't felt this much at loose ends since the last time he thought he'd lost his guide. Sinking down into the unmade bed, he rested his face against the pillow and drew comfort from the familiar scent. 

Memories of his hand clasped with Blair's in the blood splattered corner lead to memories of Blair's lips brushing against his own. He had been shocked, he couldn't truthfully deny that. The kiss was meant for someone else, even if that someone had his same name and face. Much to his surprise, he didn't want to be second choice. What he did want was to find out what terrible, awful thing Blair had remembered, because he needed to find a way to help him forget it. Blair had enough troubling memories of his own without having to deal with Dr. Sandburg's traumas as well. 

Wrapping his arms around the pillow, he pulled it closer and closed his eyes. In his mind he saw the lively blue eyes and full, laughing lips that taunted him. With a deep sigh, he finally let sleep claim him and gave himself up to dreams of Blair. 

* * *

Blair refused to let himself go back to sleep, even though he now had a full stomach and the dregs of the sedative still tugged at him. Although he felt much more at ease in the hospital pajamas than the gown, he was far from relaxed. He knew all too well that his subconscious mind had no defense against the unwanted recollections. When he was awake he could concentrate on the feel of the blanket in his hand or the painful bruises that marred the bottoms and sides of his feet or if all else failed, he could bite the side of his mouth. Still, he had to be careful. The vigilant camera recorded his every move. He had to appear calm and sane at all times in spite of whatever popped into his head. He knew all too well how he would react if he remembered the unwelcome touches or solicitous lies and veiled threats whispered softly to him in the dark.... 

"Stop it," he berated himself under his breath, praying that the camera didn't pick up his murmurs. "None of that happened to you. It happened to him." 

He stumbled to his feet and began to pace the small room while trying to not appear desperate. "Just getting some exercise," he told the camera with a bogus smile. Each painful step kept him from slipping into the abyss of Dr. Sandburg's angst-ridden memoirs, but he didn't know how long he could keep it up without showing the strain. 

* * *

"Good morning, Doctor Brewer," the nurse said to the incoming psychiatrist. "We have a new admission that came in late yesterday that needs a primary assessment," she reported as the doctor settled his things behind his desk. 

"Suicide attempt?" 

"Uh uh. Violent outburst in the ER," the nurse corrected. "His name is Blair Sandburg; he's a TA at Rainier. No drugs, no priors, but he had a recent head injury." 

"Oh?" Brewer sipped his tea and settled his bifocals on the bridge of his nose as he opened the file the nurse handed him. "Did he check out medically?" 

"Yes, but I think he needs to have his right foot X-rayed today. It's very swollen and sore, but he won't stay off it." 

"Don't tell me they missed an injury downstairs," the doctor replied doubtfully. 

The nurse shrugged. "It probably happened during the disturbance and hadn't really bruised up yet. Plus, he was heavily sedated when he reached us, so he wasn't complaining of pain. That's also why Doc Perez didn't do the initial interview. The patient wasn't in any shape to talk last night." 

"I see. And how is Mr. Sandburg this morning, other than his foot?" 

"Well, he's coherent and cooperative, if a little restless. He's had a shower and an early breakfast. I don't really see that he needs to stay in a safe room." 

"Okay," the doctor replied, trusting his staff implicitly. "Anything else that needs my immediate attention?" 

"No, sir." 

"Fine then. Have Bruce bring him to my office in about twenty minutes. In the meantime, you can settle him into a room." 

* * *

Waking in Blair's bed, surrounded by all of his things proved to be a pleasant experience. His roommate's unique scent seemed to permeate everything. The only thing missing was said roommate. But that was a ridiculous thought, Jim decided. If Blair were home, Jim wouldn't be in his bed... He refused to follow that line of thought and forced himself out of the haven that he'd found. At least he felt rested now, because he knew he would probably hang out at the hospital for most of the day. 

* * *

Blair eased himself down to the mattress and wiped a hand across his sweaty brow. It was no use; he couldn't keep up the pacing any longer and still appear to be in good spirits. He took a deep, cleansing breath but couldn't hold back a grimace as he examined his multicolored foot. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the discomfort, but as he slipped away he remembered another pain, a small, scared boy's pain... 

"Dammit," he swore sotto voce as he broke off the intrusive thoughts. While relieved to be sitting, it was a lot less painful and no longer enough to drive away the hateful memories, but he couldn't continue to pace on the injury without giving himself away. 

"I can control this," he whispered determinedly, knowing that he needed to rest. "If I can't fight off the episodes, maybe I can control the content," he reasoned. "Yeah, I can do this." 

He settled into a semi-lotus position, allowing for the injured limb and closed his eyes. As a last minute thought, he pulled the tired old blanket into his lap just in case something embarrassing came up. Damn the camera anyway. Looking for a middle of the road emotional response, he tried for something ambivalent and visualized the grayish wall of the padded room. Not that the psych ward was particularly soothing, but he hadn't formed any hard and fast opinions about it as of yet. Sighing, he let his mind drift.... 

//Smart enough to throw the mental professionals off his trail, Blair's discharge was imminent. He said all the right things, did everything that he was asked, all in all, a perfect patient. Little did they know that he was planning something a lot more drastic than another overdose of sleeping pills just as soon as they let him back on the street. Some would argue that he had no right to take his own life, given what a life of excess it had always been. To the uninitiated, he had it all; success, money, family. 

What the hell did they know? Who were they to judge him? They knew nothing about his inner demons, and he would never tell. He wrapped his arms around himself and plotted out what was left of his short life. 

After a while, he noticed that he wasn't alone. Cool blue eyes assessed him from across the common area, seeing too much, looking way too deep. The intensity of the gaze made him uncomfortable, but he returned it in kind. The man was beautiful. Chiseled features and a perfect body, guaranteed to grab anyone's attention. There was a vulnerability in the eyes that spoke to Blair even as the big man looked away. Distracted for once from his own self interest, he had to know more, so he moved closer. The man cringed and covered his ears as Blair began to speak...// 

"Blair?" 

"Huh?" Blair said as he looked up into the concerned face. "Ruth, right?" 

"That's right. You had me worried for a minute there." 

"Yeah, sorry. I was meditating," Blair lied successfully. 

* * *

"Hello, Mr. Sandburg. I'm Doctor Brewer," the portly man said, extending his hand as Blair was ushered into the small, uncluttered office. 

"How ya doin?" Blair answered politely as he shook the much bigger man's hand then eased into one of the chairs in front of the small desk. He eyed the large orderly as he compared relative sizes all around. "I think you're safe with me," he assured the doctor jokingly. 

"Of course," Brewer agreed with a quick smile. "You can wait outside, Bruce." 

The orderly nodded and gave Blair a don't-even-think-of-trying-anything look before closing the door on his way out. Blair could still see his shoulder through the narrow window. The doctor rounded the desk and took the seat next to him. 

"How's the foot?" 

Blair shifted painfully at the reminder. "I think it might be broken," he answered honestly. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was that bad. Maybe we should send you for X-rays first? You seem to be somewhat stable at the moment." 

"No, that's okay. I'd rather get this out of the way if you don't mind." 

The doctor nodded sympathetically. "Do you know why you're here?" 

"Yeah," Blair admitted, staring intently at the frayed upholstery on the arm of the chair that he was picking at. "I, um, had an emotional meltdown, I guess." 

"What were you feeling?" 

Blair cleared his throat. He wasn't sure what the right thing to say was, so he decided to go with the truth. Or as close to the truth as he could manage without being thrown into a locked room forever. "I was angry," he said simply. 

"Why?" 

"I... I've been remembering some things, lately," Blair offered hesitantly. 

The doctor's eyebrows rose in understanding. "After your head injury, you mean." 

"Yes!" Blair said more emphatically. This was turning out easier than he could have possibly imagined as the doctor was what Jim might call `leading the witness'. "Exactly." 

"What kind of things?" 

"Things from when I was a kid. Bad things." 

"Repressed memories," the doctor surmised. 

`That's it, man. Show me the way.' Blair thought. "If you say so." 

"What do you say?" 

`Damn.' "Look. I don't even know if what I remembered was real. I mean, what if I reacted to something that never happened at all? How crazy is that?" 

"Does it matter? If you have a false memory does it feel any different from a real one?" 

"What do you mean?" Blair asked, now studying the doctor intently. 

"What I'm trying to say is: Your emotions are valid whether the memory is true or not. If you have a particular memory, it happened, at least in your mind. You have to own up to it and deal with it. So tell me, what made you angry Blair? What made you so mad that you hurt yourself?" 

Blair blinked back the sudden sting in his eyes. "I was... I mean, he was just a little kid," he choked out, starting to get confused again. 

"Own the feelings Blair," Brewer commanded gently in an increasingly familiar manner, ambushing Blair with his tone... 

//...can never tell your mother. She wouldn't understand our special relationship. If you tell they'll come and take you far away and you'll never see your mother or me again. No one else will ever love you...// 

"No! No! No!" Blair shouted as he jumped to his feet. Bruce flew through the door and grabbed him from behind, practically lifting him off the floor. "No, Daddy! No!" Blair continued to scream and kicked out at the chair with his injured foot. The searing pain quickly brought him back to reality. He collapsed into the big orderly's arms. "Jim!" he called out hoarsely for the only real shelter he could think of. 

"It's okay, kid," Bruce soothed as he held the resisting man firmly against his chest in an iron grip. 

"Ruth!" Dr. Brewer shouted. "Bring me some Haldol." 

"Help me," Blair implored desperately, locking his eyes with the doctor. 

* * *

Jim found a seat to wait for an answer, even though he already knew what it would be. At least he had a legitimate reason for hanging around outside of the psych ward. Twice he had been told that, `no, he could not see Mr. Sandburg today'. Twice he had come up with a very important police matter that he had to resolve as soon as possible with Mr. Sandburg, waving his badge around for emphasis. He nodded as the unit secretary started the game of phone tag to find Captain Banks, via the round about police department numbers that Jim had provided for her. Knowing full well that Simon was not working this weekend and would probably show up at the hospital any minute, he fought the urge to grin at her. 

In the meantime, he focused his hearing past the locked double doors and set about locating his partner, listening and discarding voices and sounds as he identified them. There. Blair's voice. He sounded calm and clear, no drugs then this morning. Definitely a good sign. He was talking to a man. Bad things? What bad things? Jim wavered momentarily, feeling slightly guilty for listening in, but decided that Blair wouldn't mind too much. Besides, Jim already knew way more than anyone else and how much could Blair really tell without the doctors locking him up and throwing away the key? For all he knew, Sandburg was in the middle of a major obfuscation. 

Jim tensed when Blair's voice changed. He wasn't lying Jim realized, recognizing the subtle shift from Blair talking about himself to talking about Dr. Sandburg; I became him. This was bad. He could almost feel the rising anxiety of his guide. Bracing himself, he still wasn't quite prepared when the shouting started. 

Surging to his feet, he rushed the double doors, glancing urgently through the window down the harshly lit corridor beyond when they failed to open. 

"You need to sit down, Detective," the secretary warned as she dialed security on the other phone on her desk. Jim held up a hand, but otherwise ignored her as he heard the doctor call for medication. 

"Jim!" Blair pleaded. 

Jim thumped the door with the flat of his hand and stormed back to his seat, unconcerned about the frightened look the secretary sent his way. His face felt hot as he rubbed a hand roughly over it before turning a glare on the poor woman who stood between him and what he wanted. He concentrated once again down the hall. Blair was quiet now, but breathing hard. 

"Give him twenty minutes for the medicine to kick in and then send him to X-ray." The voice that had been talking to Sandburg ordered. 

X-ray. Perfect. Jim scrambled to the elevator without an explanation to the woman he'd been pestering all morning and punched the button for the first floor. He was half-way to the first floor before he stopped to wonder if Blair was injured, his mind conjuring up a thousand terrible things that could have happened. 

* * *

Waiting in the hall between the X-ray department and the back elevators, Jim looked at his watch again. They were late by Jim's reckoning, way past twenty minutes. Couldn't these damn people do anything on time? At last he heard the elevator doors opening and turned to look. A large orderly was pushing a stretcher with Sandburg propped up with pillows on it at both ends. His hair was disheveled and his foot looked like hell, but Jim had never been so glad to see him. 

The huge man was giving Blair a warning about behaving while out of the unit, but his voice was kind, so Jim bit back a warning of his own. Blair sighed and leaned his head back before he was close enough to see Jim. By the look on his face, the sentinel could tell he was off again. He hoped the memories this time would at least be pleasant. Even though he didn't know what the `bad' ones were about, he had seen the results of them. He leaned against the wall casually and watched the stretcher go by. The orderly glared at him as they passed, strangely protective of his patient's privacy, unknowingly going up in Jim's esteem for the very act. 

When the stretcher disappeared through the next set of doors, Jim relaxed a little. Blair looked okay for the most part, obviously his foot was the problem. Jim decided to wait for the films to be taken before he made his move. Blair had been calling for him and by God, he was going to see him, rules or no rules. 

"I'm gonna get a cup of coffee," the orderly said on the other side of the wall as he turned over his charge. "Just yell if you need me." 

* * *

"Easy, buddy. I got cha," the X-ray tech soothed. 

"Ow!" Blair protested as he was slid over to a cold, hard table, breaking him out of one of the nicest of Dr. Sandburg's memories that he had as yet shared. It was comforting to know that Dr. Sandburg had had those moments of peace and love when the perpetual darkness that he carried around inside of him was put at bay. 

He would never get tired of looking into those eyes, Blair though suddenly, quite surprising himself. Even if they weren't the exact eyes that he wanted to be staring into, they were very close. That thought roused him a little from his drowsy state. Jim was nearby, he was sure of it. He fixated on Jim and drifted back off into medicated bliss while the tech did his thing. 

//"I just don't understand why you treat him that way. Blair, he's your father. He loves you," Jim insisted as he softly stroked Blair's hair away from his face. "He'd give you the sun and the moon if he had them to give." 

"He just gives me things because he feels guilty," Blair argued passively, feeling warm and relaxed in spite of the turn of the conversation. 

"Guilty about what?" 

Blair shrugged and snuggled a little closer. "He doesn't really love me," he breathed. "But you do." 

Jim sighed and embraced Blair, drawing him even closer. "Yes, I do. No matter what happens, I'll always love you."// 

* * *

As soon as the red light went off outside the room that Blair had been wheeled into, Jim slipped inside through the hall door. The bleached-blonde tech, who looked more like he should be surfing than taking X-rays, stepped back in from the other side of the tiny room at the same time and jumped when he realized the patient wasn't alone. 

"You can't come in here, sir," he said nervously. 

"It's alright," Jim explained as he flashed his overused badge. "This is my partner and I really need a minute alone with him." 

"Oh, okay," the young man gave in reluctantly after a superficial inspection of the badge. "I've got to develop the films anyway to make sure we don't need to reshoot. Keep him from falling off the table, will ya? He looks kind of out of it." 

"Sure thing," Jim agreed quickly and positioned himself at Blair's side. 

"Hi," Blair exclaimed unexpectedly as he opened his eyes and smiled. "Are you really here?" he asked hopefully before a confused look crossed his face. "Or am I dreaming?" 

"I'm here, Chief," Jim promised, taking his hand. 

Blair's face fell slightly. "I'm sorry, man," he uttered in a contrite tone, licking his lip nervously. "I'm a real basket case right now." 

"No you're not. You're just going through a hard time. But you're not alone, you know that, right?" Jim captured Blair's chin and maneuvered it gently so that he could see his face. 

Blair pulled out of Jim's easy grasp and averted his gaze. "About what happened in the ER yesterday..." 

"Hey, don't worry about it," Jim assured quietly. "We're good. We can talk about that later, okay?" 

"Yeah, sure, man. No problem." Blair seemed relieved and even managed a dopey grin before settling back and drifting off again. Jim relaxed a little and leaned against the table to watch over him. 

"He's got a fractured metatarsal, but you didn't hear that from me," the tech announced as he came back into the room a few minutes later. 

"Is it bad?" Jim asked with concern as Blair sighed dreamily. 

"Looks like a clean break to me, but a doc needs to look at it." 

"So what happens now?" Jim asked. 

"Well, I'll call Dr. Brewer and he'll call an orthopedist who will probably put it in a cast," the tech explained. 

"How long will that take?" 

"Don't know. Let me start the ball rolling," the tech bounced back through the door to do just that. 

Jim nodded and turned back to his groggy roommate who moaned suggestively. "Blair?" Jim queried, raising an eyebrow. 

"Jim," Blair called back softly, but didn't open his eyes. He pulled the sentinel down to him until he could place a whisper of a kiss against his lips. 

This time, Jim didn't pull away. He closed his eyes and allowed the intimate caress of his mouth. When Blair released him, he sat up slowly. "We're having a moment, aren't we, Chief? I wish you were here for it," he sighed. 

"Hey!" the orderly shouted as he stormed into the room and recognized the man that had been staring at his patient in the hall. "What do you think you're doing?" 

Blair startled at the noise and seemed to come around. "It's okay, he's a friend," he informed his wound up custodian as Jim stood protectively at the side of the table. 

"He's not bothering you?" Bruce asked brusquely. 

"No. We were just talking." 

"Well, you're not supposed to have visitors yet. Those are the rules. He'll have to go." 

"Yeah, I understand about rules and how you're responsible for me and all," Blair started, a slight hint of panic in his eyes. "But I really want him to stay." 

"Look, I don't know who's to blame for keeping Mr. Sandburg overnight with a broken foot and no medical attention, but I'm sure his lawyer would be willing to help sort it out..." Jim butted in, leaving the statement open ended for effect. 

Bruce stared hard at him for a minute, seeming to think over Jim's not so subtle threat. 

"It's okay." Jim started towards the door. "I'll just go call him." 

* * *

Another half hour passed before the orthopod had a chance to take a look at Blair's films and examine his foot. They couldn't stay in the X-ray room because there were other patients literally waiting in line, and the stretcher took up too much space in the waiting area, so they spent the time in the quiet hallway next door. Blair insisted that they should all be on first name bases, then promptly sacked out. So Jim leaned against the wall at the top of the stretcher, just glad to be within reach of his guide while Bruce waited at the other end, shooting Jim dirty looks and working out in his head if his 401K was fully vested, just in case. 

At long last they were in the hospital's casting room and Blair allowed the nurse to give him a shot for pain with very little arm twisting from Jim. Afterwards, he only managed to stay awake long enough to pick out a baby blue fiberglass cast, then slept through the whole casting procedure. 

Jim didn't mind the wait, because after all, if it hadn't been for the little side trip, he wouldn't have been able to see Sandburg at all. At least not until the initial forty-eight hours was up. As it was, they hadn't really been able to talk, but his presence along with the healthy dose of pain killer kept Blair's mind from the dark recesses it tended to visit recently. Of course Jim was only speculating about that by the lack of shouting and kicking by his partner. 

As they approached the elevators, Bruce turned to Jim and cleared his throat nervously. "Sorry, Detective. End of the line, I'm afraid. If he behaves tonight, I'm sure they'll let him have visitors tomorrow." 

Jim nodded, but kept his eyes on the peacefully sleeping face. "Take care of him for me." 

"I will," Bruce promised. 

Blair roused on cue and opened an eye just as the elevator doors popped open. "Thanks, Jim," he mumbled. 

"See you tomorrow," Jim said as he tweaked a toe sticking out of the blue cast. 

"Yeah," Blair agreed with a grin and wiggled all of his toes. 

Bruce grunted noncommittally and wheeled the stretcher into the empty car and quickly punched the close door button and then four. "Remember our deal," he told his patient. "We don't say anything about your friend's visit to anyone on staff." 

* * *

"Think happy thoughts," Blair reminded himself as he shifted uncomfortably in the bed. While Bruce had kept him company and his mind occupied for most of the afternoon, his shift had eventually ended and he had gone home. The cast felt tight and heavy, all propped up on pillows to keep it higher than his heart, but it was only mildly annoying, not enough to keep his thoughts from wandering to the dark side. 

Although he was in a double room, the other bed was empty so he didn't have another patient to talk to. Since he wasn't totally ambulatory, he had used every excuse he could think of to bring one or another of the night staff to his bedside. If he didn't know better, he would think that they were going to take away his call bell if he didn't knock it off soon. 

He tried humming a cheerful tune, but he felt his anxiety beginning to rise in spite of his efforts. Knowing the negative emotions would bring on the unpleasant memories scared him, setting up the potential for one hell of an ugly loop. 

"Shit, shit, shit," he mumbled as he broke into a sweat. His meds had completely worn off and he tried to decide if a sedative might calm him enough so he could sleep. Still, he wondered if he gave into sleeping pills so soon if he would ever be able to wean himself off them. In a last ditch effort to control the memories, but unwilling to risk a fantasy with Jim in a starring roll, he tried to direct the next episode by thinking of his mother... 

//"Don't leave me." 

"I'll only be gone six weeks," Naomi promised with a benevolent smile. 

"Take me with you," Blair pleaded. 

"What about school? Don't you like junior high?" 

"I'm way ahead already, why can't I give the other kids six weeks to catch up?" 

"Sorry, sweetie. You're father would never go for that."// 

"Aurgh," Blair ground out, lurching upwards and disrupting the pillows under his foot. Breathing heavily, he tried to straighten them but soon gave up and flopped back to the bed. 

//"Calm down." 

"No! You're never touching me again!" 

"Blair!" 

"I'll tell Naomi!" 

"Please, son..." 

"No! I'll kill you, I swear. I'll kill myself."// 

"Stop it!" Blair shouted, grabbing his head as if he could force the memories away. 

//"Blair, stop!" 

"Jim, I need this," Blair begged as he thrust back harder. 

"No, not like this. I don't want to hurt you." 

"I want you to." 

"Damn it, no!" Jim pulled out and moved away. 

"Don't leave me!" Blair cried...// 

Blair let out a strangled scream and thrashed around violently, almost falling from the bed. Suddenly he stilled as everything he knew flip-flopped, then dissolved into nothingness. Several seconds passed before he became aware of his surroundings once again, but on the inside he was in a sea of limbo. Then it all came back to him in a flash of perception. 

"Are you all right, Mr. Sandburg?" the night nurse asked as he burst into the room. 

"Doctor Sandburg," the man on the bed corrected absently. "And no, I'm not all right. I think I need something for pain and maybe something to help me sleep." 

* * *

Jim settled into Blair's bed again and ran a finger over his lip, barely touching it at all. Blair had kissed him, and he had allowed it this time. If it happened again, he would kiss him back. It was that simple, wherever it led. He sighed and snuggled into the pillow letting the essence of Blair wash over his senses, trying to forget that he might not be the one that Blair wanted to kiss. 

* * *

Blair studied his reflection in the mirror, still holding the electric razor in his hand. Something must have happened right after he stepped through the accelerator. He remembered a loud noise and then a lot of pain. Now he was covered in bumps and bruises and sported a tacky blue walking cast on his right foot. He didn't even want to think about what he'd found when he went to pee. 

Obviously, he was in a psychiatric hospital, although he had no memory of when or how he had arrived. Running a hand over the small scars on his face, he wondered vainly just how long he'd been here. Somehow, he told himself, it had to be that imbecile Stacy's fault. 

He really, really wanted to see Jim. Jim would know what was going on, even if Carolyn had him on a short leash. She was probably home by now, but Blair hoped Jim would be able to slip away for a little while. Actually, he hoped Jim would want to see him at all. Angry words had been left in the air the last time they had spoken and Blair was all too aware that most of the argument was his own fault. He tried to understand. He wanted to be reasonable. It just wasn't fair. Jim didn't love her, he was certain of that, but it didn't do much to make him feel better. She was the one who got to share Jim's bed. 

* * *

Much to Simon's relief when he walked into the bullpen Monday morning Jim was already at his desk, urgently speaking to someone on the phone. "I'm checking on Blair Sandburg," he said not so patiently as if he'd already said it a couple of times. 

"What's wrong with Hairboy?" Brown asked, leaning a hip on Jim's desk and looking as if he wasn't going anywhere until he got an answer. 

"He broke his foot," Jim answered distractedly as he tried to shoo Henry away. 

"He broke his foot?" Simon echoed in disbelief. 

"I know you can't tell me anything specific," Jim snapped into the phone. "I'd just like a simple he's okay or he's not okay. Can't you do that?" 

"How'd he break his foot?" Brown persisted. 

"He didn't break his foot," Simon informed him. 

"Yes, he did," Jim insisted, glaring at Banks. 

"He did? How?" Simon queried. "I thought... never mind." 

"So he's okay then?" Jim sounded somewhat relieved. "Can he have visitors yet?" 

Brown frowned suspiciously. "They kept him at the hospital for a broken foot and he can't have visitors? Must be some broken foot." 

"Apparently," Simon answered drolly. 

"Thank you for all your help. I hope someday I can help you just as courteously," Jim mocked as he hung up the receiver. "Don't you have work to do?" he asked Henry in the same biting tone. 

"Hey, I'm not leaving `til you tell me what's up with Sandburg." Brown crossed his arms stubbornly across his chest. "You're not the only one who's concerned about him." 

Jim sighed repentantly and patted Henri on the arm. "Sorry, H. I'm a little out of sorts, I guess. He's fine," Jim assured. "He's got a few problems right now, but I'm sure everything is going to work out." 

"Nothing too serious, I hope?" 

Jim shook his head, but it lacked confidence. "I'd appreciate it if you kept this quiet. He's still a little out of it after the explosion and everything." 

"Let me know if there's anything I can do," Brown said with an understanding nod before backing down and wandering back to his own desk. 

"Broke his foot? That's the best you could come up with?" Simon asked once Brown was out of earshot. 

"He did," Jim repeated. "He kicked the stretcher a lot harder than we thought. He went for X-rays yesterday and ended up in a cast, but at least I got to see him for awhile." 

"Shit. That must have been some tantrum." 

"Yeah, it was," Jim remembered with a shudder. "I'm going to try to see him at lunch." 

"I don't suppose we could both get in?" 

"I doubt it." 

"Tell him I said `hey'," Simon said awkwardly as he tapped on Jim's desk before walking away. 

* * *

"I understand that you had a rough night," Doctor Brewer said as Blair shifted around trying to get comfy with his foot in a chair. 

"Not at all," Blair refuted with a benign smile. 

"Oh?" the doctor said noncommittally as he glanced over the nurse's notes from the night before. "So are you ready to talk about what's been troubling you?" 

"Of course. The sooner we talk about it, the faster I'll get better, right?" 

"That's right. With that attitude we'll have you out of here in no time." 

* * *

Jim saw the unit secretary grimace when he got off the elevator, but he didn't care. She obviously remembered him from the day before. Deciding that maybe he had been a little rough with her on the phone he opted for a different tactic this time and turned up the old Ellison charm. 

"Hello," he said silkily as he approached the desk with a smile. "I'm here to see Blair Sandburg." 

The woman made a show of looking at the clipboard on her desk before turning disapproving eyes back to him. "He can have visitors today, but visiting hours don't start until two," she said with ice in her voice. Oh, yeah. She remembered him. 

Looking at his watch, Jim's smile faded as he noted it was only a quarter to twelve. "Fine," he growled, the old Ellison charm slipping noticeably. "I'll just wait here. With you." He picked up a magazine and sat in the chair closest to her desk. "Ever been arrested?" he asked casually as he flipped through the pages. 

"No," she answered coldly, turning her attention back to typing, tuning Jim out. 

"That's a shame," he muttered. He closed the magazine and trained his eyes on her, tapping his fingers on the end table next to his chair. 

She tried her best to ignore him and anyone else would have thought that she was doing an admirable job of it. However the Sentinel knew as soon as he started to get on her nerves. He grinned ferally when her heart rate started to rise and her face reddened a shade or two. As perspiration appeared on her upper lip, he turned up the volume of his drumming fingertips. 

"What's your name?" Jim asked when she shot him a glare. 

"Why?" she questioned defensively. 

Jim shrugged indifferently. "I just think we should get to know each other if we're going to spend the next two hours together." 

"Doris," she replied with a resigned sigh. 

"What?" 

"My name is Doris Hartman, detective. And I'm really just trying to do my job." 

"Yeah, but you don't have to be so mean about it," Jim charged petulantly. 

The glare softened and Doris picked up the phone and quickly tapped in an extension. "Ruth? Mr. Sandburg has a visitor. Do you think it would be okay if he came in a little early? He won't stay long." 

Jim perked up and got out of his chair with a hopeful expression. 

"The nurse is asking the doctor," Doris informed him. "Yes?" she asked into the phone. "Thank you. I'll let him in." 

"Doris..." 

"Promise me you won't come until two tomorrow," Doris requested, cutting off his apology. 

"I promise," Jim said with a genuine smile. "Thanks, Doris." 

Doris nodded as she buzzed him in, sweeping an appreciative glance over his backside as he disappeared through the door. 

* * *

Blair was bored and his foot hurt. Although he felt like he could sleep, he didn't want to. Every time he closed his eyes, he had the oddest dreams. The nurse had seemed upset that he didn't remember her name, but he swore he had never seen her face before in his life. Maybe if he had been a little nicer she would have relented and let him have his pain shot early. But lunch did suck and he wasn't shy about letting her, or anyone else, know about it. When was he ever gonna learn? He had his apology all lined up when he heard a tap on the door. Instead of the pissed off nurse, a much more welcome face appeared. 

"Jim!" Blair exclaimed excitedly. 

"Hey," Jim said, unable to suppress his own face-splitting grin as he approached the bed. 

"How did you get in? Visitors aren't supposed to be in the rooms and it's not even visiting hours yet." 

"Nice to see you're keeping up with the rules," Jim teased. 

"Yeah, well, it's easier to break `em if you know what they are," Blair returned easily. "Really, they're not gonna throw you out if they catch you are they?" 

"Of course not. Relax. They only let me come in your room because you're on bed rest. Your broken foot sort of gives us some leeway." 

"I guess so. But it would make things a hell of a lot easier if they would just give me some crutches. Apparently, they think I'd use them as weapons or something." 

"You are in the psych ward, you know. Go figure." 

Jim sat on the edge of the bed and Sandburg quickly claimed his hand. "We're okay, aren't we?" Blair asked anxiously. "I mean, I didn't blow it, did I?" 

"Hey, buddy, I told you yesterday, we're fine. Don't you remember?" 

"Actually, I don't," Blair admitted. 

"It's okay, you were pretty stoned." 

"So we're good?" 

"Better than good," Jim assured. To his surprise, Blair boldly pulled his face down until their lips met. Jim hesitated briefly, but then returned the passionate kiss enthusiastically, overjoyed that Blair was in his right mind and knew who he was this time. 

"I can make you happy, Jim," Blair swore when he finally came up for air. 

"What?" Jim asked breathlessly, still trembling inside from the kiss. 

"All I need is a chance, man. I can change, I swear." 

"I... I don't want you to change," Jim insisted. 

Blair hugged him and released a shaky breath himself. "I don't deserve you," he sighed. 

"Don't say that," Jim protested as he returned the hug in earnest. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth in his arms, realizing he'd do just about anything to keep it there. 

"I love you," Blair said much too easily. 

Jim's eyes flew open and he pushed his Guide back to arms length to study him. Blair stared back, a concerned frown gathering on his face. 

"Jim?" 

"You do, don't you?" Jim asked, shocked not by the confession, but by the fact that it was blatantly obvious and had been for some time. 

Blair blinked in surprise. "After all we've been through? How can you doubt that?" 

"I'm sorry," Jim said quickly to wipe away the growing hurt in the deep blue eyes. "I don't doubt it at all." 

"Okay. Good," Blair whispered with evident relief. 

"Yeah," Jim agreed and pulled him back into an embrace before speaking again. "I love you, too," he offered timidly. 

"I know. And thank God for that." 

Stunning revelations over, Jim was content to sit on the side of the bed and hold his partner, vaguely wondering where this strange turn of events would lead. Blair loved him. He smiled and snuggled his cheek into the mass of curls. 

"So when do you think they'll spring you from this place," Jim asked at last. 

Blair lay back on the bed and took Jim's hands in his own absently. "Um, I had a really good session with Dr. Brewer this morning. Don't worry, I know what to tell him. I baffled him with bullshit. Give me another day or so and he'll let me go." 

"You don't think he can help you?" 

"Look, Jim, I need to go home. That will help." 

Jim nodded thoughtfully. "How are you otherwise?" he asked tentatively. 

"Now that you're here, I'm fine." 

"So you haven't had any more... Somebody's coming." Jim stood and grudgingly let go of Blair's hands. 

A nurse tapped on the open door and entered the room. "You can have something for pain now if you want it Mr. Sandburg." 

An irritated frown crossed Blair's face briefly before he sighed. "Yeah, sure." 

"Sir, you'll have to go in a few minutes," she said to Jim as she left the room. 

"She insists on calling me Mr. Sandburg," Blair grumbled. 

Jim laughed and captured Blair's hand once again. "I promised I wouldn't stay long," he sighed. "Do you need anything?" 

"Just you, man," Blair said sincerely. He tugged Jim closer and kissed him again. 

Amazed at the ease with which his partner showed his affection, Jim smiled shyly. "I could get used to that," he breathed. 

"Cool," Blair replied with a twinkle in his eye. "Will you come back tomorrow?" 

"I wouldn't miss it. You sure you're okay?" 

"Really, I just need to get out of here." 

"Okay." Jim squeezed his hand again and reluctantly turned to go, stopping at the door for one last glance over his shoulder. 

Blair laughed at him and shook his head fondly as he shooed him out of the room. "Go back to work," he ordered lightly. "The city is in desperate need of a Sentinel right about now," he added in a whisper. 

Jim smiled as he left. Just seeing Blair did wonders for him and for the first time in days he felt like everything might turn out all right. Better than all right, because now it looked like there were whole new possibilities on the horizon. Things that he wouldn't have considered seriously before this whole mess had started. Passing the nurse in the hall, he flagged her down. 

"How is he really?" Jim asked, keeping his voice down. 

The nurse considered the question briefly. "He seems much better," she confirmed. 

"He hasn't had any more violent episodes?" he asked, noting that Blair hadn't drifted off once while he was in the room. 

"Not since yesterday," she assured. 

"Thank you," Jim said with a nod and a relieved smile. 

* * *

"It's about time," Blair whined when the nurse finally returned with his pain shot. 

"This is your last injection," Ruth advised. "After this, the doctor wants you on oral pain meds." 

"Fine," Blair huffed. "I'll suffer in silence." 

"Somehow I doubt that, Mr. Sandburg." 

"Why can't you address me as Doctor Sandburg?" Blair asked impatiently as he rolled over to give her access to his hip and tugged down the pajama bottoms slightly. 

Ruth gave him a long suffering look as she swabbed his skin with alcohol. "Because that's not your name and I don't want to play into any of your delusions," she informed him and stabbed him with the needle. 

"Ow. Sadist," he murmured. 

"Your friend is cute," Ruth teased. 

"Back off, woman," Blair growled with a laugh. "He's taken." 

* * *

A quiet night alone could do terrible things to a man's peace of mind. Jim had been okay for the rest of the workday as long as he stayed busy, but as soon as he got home, his insecurities kicked into overdrive. His emotions ranged from confused to hopeful to apprehensive, right back to confused. Blair loved him. He said so, and backed it up with a soul shaking, take-me-I'm-yours kiss. 

Jim had only recently and begrudgingly at that, begun to realize how much he actually needed Sandburg. Not just as a guide, that was a given. He shuddered to think what he would have done if Blair had really died. It would have left a Blair-shaped hole in his life that nothing would have ever been able fill. He had always had a soft spot for the kid. It was only natural that it had grown over their time together, time that Jim didn't ever want to end. Why was it so hard to admit to himself that he was in love with Blair? Especially since he had already made that particular proclamation to the lovee. 

Rubbing his eyes, Jim dropped into the chair in the livingroom to contemplate what he wanted. Try as he might, Jim honestly couldn't see a woman putting up with his close relationship with another man. But did he really need a woman in his life? Ever? Didn't he get the same or better emotional satisfaction from his current partner? He did, more so in fact than he'd ever had with his wife. Blair reached him effortlessly on levels that Carolyn had never touched. So that left the physical part of the relationship. 

Hugging and kissing was all well and good. Lots of people did it for lots of different reasons. Blair could probably do a twenty minute monologue on the different cultural aspects of men holding hands in public. Hugging Blair had always been good. Kissing was, it turned out, even better. Except for a few teenage doubts and infrequent flights of fancy in the last couple of years, Jim had always considered himself unshakably into women. Could he just give up sex completely? 

After a thirty second delay, the absurdity of that thought brought a surprised gasp from him. Men did have sex with other men. Is that what Blair had in mind? Of course it was. He'd been remembering, hell, he'd been re-living sex with another man for days now. And not just another man. Another Jim. In spite of the ridiculous jealousy that thought caused him, Jim felt a twinge down below. More than a twinge. As a test, he allowed his imagination to run with images of skin and hair and lips and... what the hell was he gonna do now? 

Taking a deep breath, Jim fingered the growing ache in his trousers. Oh yeah. If that's what Blair had in mind, he was more than willing to participate. Finally, things seemed clear. In spite of the fact that Blair was currently residing in the nut house, things definitely seemed to be looking up in the Ellison/Sandburg household. But was it fair to take advantage of Blair before he got back on his feet? Maybe he would feel differently when he got his memory straightened out. Should Jim wait and see or follow Blair on the path that he was so brazenly blazing for them? Damn. He was confused all over again. 

* * *

Jim smiled as he exited the elevator and caught Doris' subtle sigh. It was only ten am, but Jim had come right away when he got Blair's call. He sauntered up to the desk brandishing a small bouquet of flowers. 

"Detective Ellison," Doris began, irritation evident in her tone, "You promised..." 

"These are for you," Jim said coyly, then sneezed. "I just wanted to say thanks for your help yesterday." 

"I... ah... oh. Thank you," Doris said, a blush climbing her neck to her cheeks as she accepted the flowers. "You know I can't let you in right now." 

"It's okay. Blair's being discharged this morning. I just came to pick him up," Jim explained with a grin. 

"Oh. Oh, thank God." 

"And I wanted to explain," Jim said awkwardly. "You see, Mr. Sandburg is my police partner even though he isn't really a cop, but he's my roommate too. I sorta feel responsible for him..." 

"He lives with you? Say no more," Doris interrupted holding up a hand. "That explains so much," she continued under her breath. "That would drive anybody crazy." 

* * *

Blair chatted absently part of the way home but dozed some too, not really paying attention to where they were going so he was a little surprised when they pulled up in front of Jim's loft. 

"Why the sudden release?" Jim asked as he put the truck into park. 

"Hey, I know psycho babble. Remember, I'm a psychiatrist's nightmare patient; I've been in therapy on and off for my whole life," Blair laughed. 

"So you lied your ass off," Jim concluded. 

"No, no, no," Blair argued. "I bluffed. Big difference." 

"You told the man what he wanted to hear so he'd let you go. How is that different from a lie?" 

"See," Blair explained, clearing his throat, "a lie is told maliciously. A bluff is merely a subtle manipulation to bring about desired results." 

"Right. We've had this conversation before," Jim nodded. "Degrees of truth, by Blair Sandburg." 

Blair snorted as he sorted out his brand spanking new crutches. "You sure this is okay?" he asked with a tilt of his head towards the building. 

Jim patted him on the knee. "This is better than okay. Relax. Stay put, I'm coming around to get you." Blair smiled and did as he was told as Jim rounded the truck. They maneuvered the cast and Jim helped Blair steady himself on the crutches before they awkwardly made their way inside. 

"You tired?" Jim asked as the elevator opened on the third floor, thinking how Blair seemed to be having trouble with the crutches. Normally the kid got around like greased lightening, as much experience as he'd had with them. 

"Yeah, I just couldn't sleep in the hospital." Blair shuddered thinking of the horrible dreams. "If you don't mind I think I'll lie down for a while." 

"No problem," Jim agreed, unlocking the door and ushering Blair inside. To his surprise, Blair bypassed his own room and headed for the stairs. "Uh, Chief?" 

"What?" Blair asked, stopping to look back in confusion. 

Jim stalled for a second while he closed the door and locked it. "You sure you're up to... that?" he questioned as he turned back around. 

"Well, sure. If you'll help me," Blair stated, dropping the crutches in favor of the hand rail. 

Jim quickly crossed the room and let Blair drape an arm around his neck, while he slipped one of his own snugly around Blair's waist. They both grunted a little as they tackled the stairs. Jim took the opportunity to catalog his partner in a new light, scenting him so deeply he could almost taste his smell by the time they reached the bed and it had him heady with desire. He was definitely breathing too hard as Blair sat on the edge and grinned up at him. 

"Well, Jim, that's not what I had in mind, but I think I can help you out," Blair teased as he firmly palmed the straining bulge at the front of Jim's jeans. 

Stunned, first by the fact he was sporting a magnificent woody from nothing more than Blair's scent, and second, not only had Blair noticed, he had called him on it, touching it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Jim jumped back nearly falling down the stairs. 

"Whoa! Easy big guy. We need to work on keeping that sense of touch turned down." 

"Sorry, I just, um..." 

"Slide back over here," Blair instructed gently, a predatory gleam in his eyes. 

Slowly, Jim eased back toward the bed. 

"I probably won't bite you," Blair grinned devilishly as he reached out and grabbed Jim by the belt loop to hasten his return. 

"I, uh..." Jim stuttered helplessly, his resolve to take it slow melting away under Blair's determination. 

Blair locked eyes with him as he unbuttoned the jeans and slowly lowered the zipper, the gaze so intense Jim thought he might happily zone on the blue and never come out. 

"Mmm," Blair hummed as he slipped his hand inside and tugged Jim's boxers out of the way, dropping his stare to the newly freed member. Blair tapped on Jim's thigh causing him to widen his stance slightly. "Don't lock your knees," he told him just before taking him firmly in hand and swiping the head with his tongue. 

"God," Jim exclaimed, dropping his head back as his mouth went dry. 

A laugh reverberated up through his dick as Blair took him into his mouth. Jim grasped a double handful of hair and let himself go, insane with pleasure. Within minutes he was panting and fighting the urge to thrust. Blair played him with hands and lips and tongue with an expertise that rang of practice and Jim came long and hard, amazed as Blair swallowed without reserve. 

An intense moan prevented him from zoning and he flushed even more as he realized that it had come from his own throat. Looking down into mocking eyes he couldn't help but grin feebly. 

"Been awhile," Blair teased, giving him one final, gentle tug before releasing him. 

"Blair," Jim breathed, dropping down to his knees. 

"Shhh." Blair smoothed a hand over Jim's hair and kissed him on the temple. "Nap time." 

"What about," Jim stopped to lick his dry lips. "What about you?" he asked. 

Blair pulled off his shirt and kicked off his one shoe as he stretched out on the bed. "Don't worry about me," he said sleepily. "I have plans later for my cock and your ass." 

"I... oh." Jim blinked back his astonishment at that bombshell and pulled the folded comforter from the foot of the bed to cover his... lover. 

"Stay with me?" Blair asked, suddenly sleepy and vulnerable. 

Jim quickly removed his shoes and spooned up next to his Guide with a deep, satisfied sigh. "Always," he whispered and brushed his lips over Blair's cheek. He relaxed, melting against the warm body next to him, still floating in the aftermath of his mind numbing orgasm. 

"You sure Carolyn's not gonna bust in on us?" Blair mumbled as he dropped off toward sleep. 

"Huh?" Jim said, jolted back to earth unexpectedly. "Blair?" he asked, shaking his partner awake, a bad, bad feeling settling in his gut. 

"Wha? Come on, man. Have a heart," Blair complained drowsily. 

"Uh, I think we need to talk, Chief." 

"Chief? What the hell is that?" Blair grumbled as he fluffed his pillow then dropped his head back into it. "We can talk later. And don't call me that. You know how I feel about nicknames." 

"Right," Jim drawled as he pulled the comforter around the bare shoulder that had slipped out. "Sweet dreams, Doctor Sandburg," he whispered. 

"Sweet dreams," Blair muttered back to him, a soft smile on his lips. 

* * *

"Oh, God. What have I done?" Jim asked the ceiling for the hundredth time. He turned to watch the covers next to him rise and fall with the soft snores coming out from under them. Pink toes and a blue cast peeked out from the bottom and curly brown hair stuck out the top. A groan and rapid breathing signaled the next nightmare and Jim slipped an arm under the comforter and around the bare chest. 

"Shhh," he soothed before the thrashing could begin. "I'm here." 

The respirations slowed and the body turned, squirming deeply into Jim's embrace. Hot air bathed Jim's neck with each expiration and he could feel every individual chest hair brush against him. He cursed his own body as it reacted to the naked flesh as it pressed closer. His nerve endings fairly thrummed each place they touched where skin met skin. A hand slowly crept up his chest under the cover and warm lips parted to suckle the base of his neck. 

"Blair..." Jim groaned in protest. "We can't." 

"Sure we can," Blair assured breathily, now busily groping with both hands. 

"Stop," Jim requested gently. "Please." 

A tousled head appeared from under the comforter. "What's wrong?" Blair asked with a concerned pout. 

"I just don't think you know who I am," Jim offered hesitantly. 

"Oh, Jim," Blair teased as he ran a hand down to investigate Jim's burgeoning interest. "You've picked a hell of a time to go philosophical on me." 

Jim caught him by the wrist and firmly pulled the wandering hand away. 

"You're serious," Blair said, a deep frown settling on his face. 

"Are you my Guide?" Jim asked huskily. 

"We've been over this a hundred times..." 

"Just answer the question." 

"You know I don't have time for that," Blair stated defensively. "We've just got the Quantum accelerator up to speed and..." he stopped and stared as Jim swung his feet over the side of the bed and dropped his head into his hands. 

"Doctor Sandburg," Jim whispered. 

Blair sat up as well and ran a hand over Jim's back, hurt when Jim flinched away. "Uh, Jim, I think as many times as your dick has been in my mouth you can call me Blair," he said quietly. 

Jim huffed a soft laugh. "You're so much like him," he said without looking back. "Still, I should have known something was wrong." 

"What the hell are you talking about, man? What's wrong?" 

"Tell me about your father," Jim requested as he turned somber blue eyes back to him, trying to remember any other differences Blair had mentioned between the two of them. 

Instantly Blair's face closed off and he dropped back down to the bed. "Nothing to tell." 

"He hurt you," Jim hissed, detecting the lie instantly. 

"No way," Blair denied vehemently. "Father of the fucking year. Everybody thinks so." 

"What did he do?" Jim asked, honestly concerned, but now certain that he had the wrong Blair Sandburg nestled in his bed. 

"Conversation over," Blair spat out and rolled over with his back to Jim. 

Jim swallowed the lump in his throat and ran a hand through his hair. "Blair, I don't know what's going on, and I'm really sorry about whatever it is that's troubling you, but I need my Blair back," he said softly, but firmly. 

"What are you talking about?" 

Jim's cell phone rang and he considered ignoring it. 

"Jim, answer your damned phone," Blair insisted resentfully. 

"Ellison," Jim snapped as he opened the plastic fold. "I can't right now... No, I'm not working today, I've got a sick friend.... Even cops have real lives, Sneaks... I'll send Connor... Shit." He covered the phone and turned to look at the back of Blair's head. "Blair?" 

"Go." 

"Promise you won't go anywhere?" 

"Whatever." 

"Sneaks, I'll be there in ten minutes, but this better be quick," Jim lectured into the phone before he hung up. "Please just stay in bed until I get back," he said as he turned back to his petulant roommate. "I wouldn't go, but we've been setting this up forever..." 

"I've heard it all before. Just go do your thing. You know where to find me." 

Jim situated his jeans and put his shoes on. "I'm sorry. I'll be right back." 

"It's okay," Blair sighed sullenly. 

"Just so there's no mistake, I do love Blair Sandburg," Jim replied as he grasped the familiar face by the stubbled chin and turned it towards him. 

A small smile reached Blair's eyes. "I know. Go to work." 

Still Jim hesitated. He leaned down and guiltily took a final kiss, knowing it was wrong, but unable to resist. "We really have to talk," he said softly. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't try the steps by yourself." 

"Yes, mother," Blair mocked, turning away to go back to sleep. "I love you, too." 

* * *

//Breathing was difficult as he fought off the disoriented feeling and tried to shout through the gag. 

"I can't hear you. I don't understand. I need to hear your voice more anyway." Blair gasped for air a second as the gag was removed. "Screw you, you head case! Help! Help me!" The crazy man got in his face and shouted with him until he fell silent and just stared back at him in abject terror. Think! Try to think! "You just relax. We're going to see the ducks and then you're going to have a nice-- you're going to have... have a nice bath. Are you ready to die? 'Cause...I'm ready"// 

Blair woke with a start, breathing heavily as he pushed away the vision of the nasty little man. He rubbed at his wrists where he could almost feel the cold chains digging into the skin. The strange dreams that he'd been plagued with since waking up in the hospital were getting worse. It had been much better earlier when Jim had lain next to him and eased him out of each dream with a touch and a soft word. Now that Jim was gone, the dreams were coming harder and faster and becoming more and more real. Almost like memories. 

He sat up slowly, thinking he should have had Jim bring him his pain medicine before he left. The Sentinel Unit was always pulling his lover away and Blair tried not to be resentful of Jim's job, but it wasn't easy. He bent to tweak his toes. They were warm and he thought that the swelling was down as the cast felt a little less snug so he thought he might risk the stairs and get his own damn drugs. No telling when Jim would be back anyway. It could be hours. 

Finding his shirt on the floor, he looked at it briefly before sliding it over his head. When had he bought that cheap thing, he wondered as he slid his good foot into the single Nike without undoing the laces. He stopped at the top of the stairs to tighten the string in the waist of his loose sweatpants and looked over the rail... 

//...the sound of rushing water mixed with the cold spray on his face as he looked over the side of the cliff into the raging torrent. Jim was at his side but he looked worried. Gun shots sounded close by. They stared at one another intensely for only a few seconds before lunging over the side to plummet into the river...// 

Blair grabbed the rail and it took him a minute to realize he wasn't falling. Okay, he hadn't been asleep that time. Something was wrong with him, something bad. He leaned heavily on the rail as he made his way down the stairs as fast as he could manage without killing himself, fighting off a panic attack with every step. 

Forgetting about the medicine he frantically searched around the kitchen for the phone book. He wanted to go home. Once again, he needed Jim, but Jim was off saving the world. He could call a cab and be home in fifteen minutes, if he had any money. His wallet was on the counter with the bottle of pills and the large envelope from the hospital with his other `personal effects'. When he yanked the wallet open, he was relieved to actually find some green stuff inside. 

He limped towards Jim's office, thinking there must be a phone book on the desk. As he pushed the door open, his mouth fell open as well. Jim had redecorated. Or maybe Carolyn had. Still, the room looked oddly familiar. The books were all wrong, some of them... most of them were his. He recognized a couple small artifacts and turned toward the little window where pictures decorated the ledge. With a shaky hand he picked up a framed photo with a group of people he didn't know, except for the short guy in the middle with the curly brown hair. 

The glass in the frame shattered as it hit the floor. Blair began to hyperventilate, so he stumbled over to sit in the desk chair. "I didn't make it back," he muttered to himself, suddenly the cryptic conversation with Jim made a little more sense. He was still in the wrong reality. 

Urgently, he dug around in the desk until he found a journal. When he opened it, he found page after page of his own handwriting. Making a conscious effort to slow his breathing and not pass out, he turned to the front and began to read. 

* * *

"I don't have time for this today," Ellison growled impatiently at his informant. 

"Look, I'm sorry. Next time I'll make an appointment," Sneaks grumbled back. "I thought you really wanted this guy." 

"I do," Jim insisted. "But the timing really stinks." He rubbed his thumb over his cell phone, trying to decide if he should call to check on Blair. Finally, the door opened and the person who might very well be Cascade's next public enemy number one strolled through it. 

* * *

Blair didn't know how to feel after he read about his counterpart's visit to his own world. First, he was jealous, absolutely green with envy. This version of himself was so different. He was dedicated to the study of Sentinels in a way that he had never been and it had paid off big time. This Blair knew so much more, understood so much more than he ever had about what a Sentinel was and what one could do. His own theory that anyone with a heightened sense was a Sentinel was deconstructed and disproven point by point in the journal. And this Blair was a true Guide; he shared a bond with this Jim that Doctor Blair Sandburg-Robart had never even envisioned. It was humbling to be brought face to face with your own shortcomings. 

Then there was the little matter of being dead. There was a reason why he couldn't see well and he was covered in scars and he had somehow been circumcised without his knowledge. The body he occupied at the moment wasn't his. It wasn't that he was still in an alternate reality, after all his body must have been sent home when this Blair came back through the accelerator. He could only surmise that his physical self had died during the transfer, during the brief instant when they had been one. The essence of both souls attached to the living body and somehow he'd become dominant. But now the real owner's memories were beginning to bleed through; and he didn't know how to stop them, or even if he could. 

This Blair was strong, but he wasn't perfect. Thank God he had his faults or Blair might really feel bad for taking over. This other side of him had been through some scary stuff if the dreams were all true; kidnapped, shot, drugged, even drowned. But it had been worth it to him because it was all for Jim. He had experienced personal loss and had wants and needs that he tended to push aside for the people around him. But he hadn't grown up in fear. He hadn't experienced the kind of betrayal that made a child die inside piece by piece, warped beyond repair. And sadly, he had never truly loved, even though the potential was there. Those were the dividing factors Blair thought. Those were the things that made them different. 

Carolyn was out of the picture here and that was a very good thing, leaving Jim open to a new relationship. One that Blair was sure he was primed for. Unfortunately, Jim already understood the situation, at least on some level. He knew the man he had come so hard for was not who he had thought he was at the time. Even though he realized it was a virtual stranger in his arms, he had been patient and kind and kept the bad dreams at bay. 

Maybe he was susceptible to any Blair in the sack, but would he ever accept a substitute for his Guide? Could he? That could cause problems because Blair didn't know the first thing about being a Guide. Besides, Jim had already made it clear that he wanted his own Blair back. He said he needed him. Still, Blair wondered if there might be a crack he could lever himself into between them... 

//"Jim, what's the matter with you?" 

"I don't know. Maybe I'm feeling a little, uh, how did you say it -- "territorially threatened to the point of paranoia"? I mean, what the hell is that?" 

"You read my dissertation. Jim, I don't believe you. I asked you not to do that!" 

"After I let you stay at my place. I get you a job at the department. I mean you don't have enough data you got to go digging into my ex-wife's life?" 

"The only reason that I talked to Carolyn is cause she's the only one how knows you better that I do." 

"What does my sex life got to do with your project?" 

"Sex life? What are you...? She said you had a fear of intimacy, Jim. Intimacy and sex are two different issues." 

"Maybe to you they are, Chief, but my personal life and those that are involved is intimate to me." 

"Look, we have three years of our lives invested in this thing and I'm not going to start shading any of it because you're starting to feel a little threatened." 

"Threatened by you? I don't think so, Chief." 

"What else do you call it?" 

"I call it a violation of friendship and trust."// 

The harsh memory slammed home how fragile the relationship between these two men actually was, leaving Blair gasping for breath. Even with the bond that they shared, there were trust issues, and that meant there was hope for him. This Jim and Blair did not have the kind of relationship that he'd had with his own Jim. They had never broken through that particular barrier, but Blair was sure they both wanted to, only neither one had actually admitted it yet. And he was certain that's where their problems began. 

According to the journal, his own Jim, the love of his life, had surely died in an explosion. Instead of being together on the other side, Blair lingered here trying to hold onto a life that wasn't even his. The realization that he had in fact lost his own Jim caused a sudden, sharp pain in the middle of his chest. He had been so ready to throw his life away and then he'd met Jim. Jim had saved him from himself. And now he was gone. He would do what he had to do to survive, but he wasn't sure he wanted a life without Jim in it. He didn't know if the other Jim could ever really love him, but if there was a chance, he'd take it. 

At the moment, he wanted to go home. No phone book on the desk either. Screw it. He dialed 411 and requested the number of the cab company. He gathered the journal and hobbled back to the livingroom to collect his crutches, figuring by the time he made it downstairs the taxi wouldn't be far behind. The elevator arrived after several minutes and he punched the number one and leaned against the wall... 

//three, two, one... the elevator dropped and a mass of bodies tumbled around him at the abrupt stop. Moans of pain echoed in the metal car and his knees and wrists ached from the fall...// 

"Blair, sweetheart? What's wrong?" a soft voice asked as a knotted hand patted his cheek. 

"What?" Blair asked as he snapped out of the home movie in his head. "I'm sorry..." 

"Oh, dear. You've hurt yourself again," the elderly woman crooned, taking in the crutches and cast. "Should I call Jim?" 

"No, no, Ms... ah, I'm all right. I'm just heading... to the doctor's office now," Blair lied badly as he step/crutched his way around the old girl and out of the elevator. 

"Be careful," she advised. 

"I will, um, thanks," Blair muttered and made a beeline for the front door. A cab pulled in just as he made it to the street. "Rainier," he told the driver as he slipped into the back seat. He needed to find Stacy's doppelganger and the University was the only place he could think to look. 

* * *

The meeting was tense. Jim made a conscious effort not to grind his teeth as the deal was hashed out. It should have taken only a few minutes, but it seemed to drag on forever. Knowing he'd say practically anything to get out of the coffee shop and home, Jim walked a fine line, trying to appear not too eager. After all, Blair was safely home, tucked into his bed. Surely he wouldn't try the stairs alone on a broken foot. Unless he needed a drink, or to go to the bathroom, or some medicine that Jim hadn't thought to put upstairs in case he needed it. 

"I'm on a schedule here. Bottom line it for me," Jim broke into the drug dealer's carefully rehearsed speech. 

"What's your hurry?" the perp asked suspiciously. 

"Look, I've got other fish to fry, and frankly, you're boring me to tears here. I don't give a shit about your day to day operations. I just need to know if you can deliver." 

"I can deliver." 

"How much for how much?" 

"I can get as much as you want. Fifty grand a key." 

"Deal." 

The man shifted his stance and drew out an FBI badge. "You're under arrest..." 

"Son of a bitch," Jim grumbled. "Sneaks, I'm gonna kick your ass," he snarled as he raised his hands above his head, not daring to reach for his own badge with the circle of guns that appeared around him. 

* * *

Blair sat morosely on the side of the fountain and wondered if his counterpart ever came here after... that particular memory had really been bad. He could still feel the water under his face and the spasms as his airway tried to close off, the panic, the fear. But then the sudden peace of death had not been scary at all. He stared at the sun dapped water and dipped a finger into the pool and tried to remember it again. 

"Mr. Sandburg!" an excited young voice sounded behind him. 

He turned to look at the girl who had called his name. She was plump, but cute and smiled ear to ear at him. "Hi," he said noncommittally. 

"Are you back? Things just haven't been the same without you. Everyone misses you." 

"They do?" Blair asked, bewilderment evident in his tone. Nobody ever missed him at school. He was one of the most hated professors on campus with a rep for strict grading and no second chances. A few people had actually changed majors when they'd been assigned to him as their adviser. 

"Oh, yeah. We even made you up a huge get-well card. Almost three hundred people signed it. Didn't you get it?" 

"Sure I did. It was great," Blair tried to smile. 

"So you're back?" 

"No. Not yet," Blair said guiltily. "I'm just... visiting." 

"They're almost through rebuilding the damaged part of Hargrove Hall," the girl enthused. "Maybe you'll be back by the time they get done?" 

Blair turned and looked over his shoulder where the construction site was sectioned off. This was where the explosion had happened. The one that should have... did, kill him. "I hope so," he whispered. 

"See you later!" 

"Bye," Blair mouthed. He sat quietly for a minute and soaked up the sun. The afternoon had been informative. The Stacy Headen of this reality had died a year ago, and with him any hope of returning to his own reality. Blair Sandburg, while not a professor, not a multiple Ph.D., and not able to hold Rainier University at his beck and call with the family fortune, was a well loved and respected teacher. 

Blair realized too that he had misjudged something else about his alter ego. Maybe he hadn't been in a physical relationship with this Jim Ellison, but this Blair had loved, and loved well. His love was different, though. It was innocent, but deeper and vastly more selfless. Blair had died for Jim, and would again without pause if necessary. But he would never, ever tell Jim of his love for him. Not without a little encouragement. Blair made his decision and opened the journal. 

"Can I borrow a pen?" he asked a passing student. 

"Sure thing, Mr. S. Keep it," the young jock said with a smile as he produced a felt tip from his pocket. 

"Thanks." Blair nodded and opened the book to the last page, uncapping the pen. 

* * *

"Simon, I really need to go," Jim reiterated, tapping his watch with a finger. 

"Are you finished with Detective Ellison?" Simon barked in his best Captain's voice. 

"We'll get this all sorted out soon enough, Captain," the agent in charge replied, obviously in no hurry and still somewhat peeved that their wires had been crossed. 

"Oh for heaven's sake," Simon growled. "Look, I'll vouch for my man. He needs to leave to check on a personal matter. Damn feds," he added under his breath when his request went unanswered. "Do you want me to send Connor over to check on Sandburg?" he asked, turning to Jim. 

"I don't know if that's such a good idea. Blair's not really himself," Jim supplied quietly. 

"Don't tell me," Simon said putting his hands up in surrender. "I'll go myself." 

"Thank you, sir," Jim sighed in relief. "Just make sure he's still asleep. You'll, uh, you'll find him upstairs." 

Simon raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. 

"Long story, Simon. Don't ask." 

"I wasn't going to," Simon assured him as he turned to go. 

* * *

After Blair poured his heart out into the journal, he closed it gently and took another moment to enjoy the sun. A weight lifted as he finally let the dark secrets out of his heart and wrote of the things he had held inside for so long. He could move on now, move past the pain. Still, he wanted to see home one last time so he struggled to his feet and stuck the journal into his waistband before gathering his crutches and heading off in search of a phone. 

* * *

"Detective Ellison has an urgent phone call," Rafe informed the agents in the interrogation room through the intercom. 

Jim sat up straighter as the guard handed a phone through the door. The agent plugged it in. "Make it quick." 

"You're all heart," Jim sneered. "Ellison." 

"Jim, he's not at the loft..." 

"What? We've got to find him..." 

"Jim! Easy. We canvassed the building. One of your neighbors said that he was on his way to the doctor's office a little over an hour ago and he seemed a little out of it but otherwise fine." 

"That was a lie, Simon. He didn't have a doctor's appointment." 

"Why would she lie?" 

"Not her! Him. Simon, we have to find him fast. Send someone to check Rainier, and get me the hell out of here!" 

"Sit tight. I'll be right there." 

* * *

Small raindrops began to hit the windshield of the taxi, which suited Blair's mood perfectly as they pulled up at their destination. 

"You sure this is where you wanted to go, honey?" the female driver asked sympathetically as she turned to look at him. 

Blair nodded mutely and handed over a wad of cash. "Is this enough?" 

"Yeah, I'll get you some change." 

"Keep it," Blair murmured as he climbed out of the cab. 

"You want me to wait?" the driver asked, glancing around the inhospitable landscape. 

Blair shook his head but didn't look back as he shuffled on his crutches closer to the burned out warehouse. 

"Claire?" the radio cackled. 

"Go ahead," the driver answered as she watched the sad young man make his way up the steps, his hair slowly becoming soaked as the falling rain got harder. 

"Did you drop off your fare from Rainier yet?" 

"Yeah, but I'm still lookin' at him," she reported. 

There was a short pause before the dispatcher came back on. "Is he okay?" 

"I don't know," Claire answered honestly. The man reached the top of the steps and disappeared through the door at the top. "He kinda acts like his dog just died." 

"Keep an eye on him. The police are on their way." 

"No problem," Claire said and shut off the engine. 

* * *

Thanks to some brilliant detective work by Connor, by the time the shouting match was over with the Feds, Jim knew exactly where his Guide was. He would have driven like a maniac if not slowed by the wet streets. Thankfully, the rain shower had been brief. Spotting the taxi, he pulled up next to it and stopped to listen. He sighed as he registered two strong heartbeats inside not far apart. But there was no idle conversation; unusual for any Sandburg he was positive. 

Just inside the door a middle aged woman leaned against the wall keeping a motherly watch over the dejected figure seated on a crate in the center of the burned out room. Jim flashed his badge and a smile of thanks to the woman who nodded and eased silently back out the door. 

A shaft of light from the dripping hole in the ceiling surrounded Blair like a halo where he sat absorbed in a journal. Jim zoomed in on the page he was reading and noted the round smudges of ink where little drops of water had struck the paper, smelling suspiciously of saline. 

"Blair," he called softly. 

Blair closed the book as he looked up and held it to his chest, his eyes wide. 

Jim edged closer and knelt in front of him, ignoring the chilly puddle his knee sank into. He reached a hand and pushed away a sodden curl from Blair's cheek. "I know you've been through a lot," he began. 

"Jim..." 

"No. Let me first," Jim said, keeping his voice soft. "You don't belong here. You're taking something that's not yours. I won't let you." 

"He's gone," Blair soothed. 

"No," Jim argued. "You're lying. I still feel him. I haven't stopped feeling him since he got home the first time." 

"Doctor Sandburg is gone, Jim. I'm me," Blair insisted, a smile lighting his face. 

"How?" Jim asked suspiciously. 

Blair shrugged. "He let go. He didn't think he'd be able to win you over, and he didn't want a life without a Jim in it." 

"Uh, okay," Jim said cautiously, wondering how he would ever bring up what had happened at the loft. He felt guilty as hell, but it was Blair's body and he had a right to know. 

"He called me a lucky bastard. I'm just trying to figure out if he meant it literally or figuratively." 

"Chief?" 

"Huh?" 

"Just testing." Jim grinned and climbed up to sit next the smaller man on the wooden crate. "Welcome back," he said and slipped an arm around Blair's shoulders to give him a squeeze. 

"Jim, you're a cop. You've seen some pretty terrible things?" Blair ventured quietly, conspicuously not moving away from the touch. 

"You know I have," Jim confirmed quietly, rubbing his hand up and down Blair's arm to drive away the fine tremors he felt there. 

"What makes a... Why would an adult, um, touch a child? You know, inappropriately?" 

Jim's hand froze in place. "God, Chief..." 

Blair held up a hand and stopped the flow of words. He was silent for a minute, seeming to puzzle something over in his head. "You told me before that Dr. Sandburg didn't have any scars," he said at last. 

"No, he didn't," Jim agreed cautiously. "That was how I figured out that he wasn't you. It was also part of the reason I didn't catch on right away this time." 

"He did have scars though. Bad ones. They were just on the inside." 

Jim nodded his concurrence. "It was his father, wasn't it?" 

"Yeah. How did you know?" 

Jim shrugged. "You, uh, said `Daddy' a couple of times, in fact a lot of his memories were centered on his father. Then when I asked him about his father he got all defensive and clammed up. Are you gonna be okay with all this?" he asked, concerned. 

"I think so. Everything is starting to fade now," Blair explained. "Things aren't as vivid. It's not like he took his memories with him or anything, but they're not quite so real anymore." 

"Good." Jim impulsively placed a kiss on the top of Blair's head as he drew him close, cataloging him sense by sense. 

"He left me a note with his father's name and address," Blair said numbly. 

"What are you going to do with it?" 

"I don't know. I mean, the address might not be the same, but the name probably will. I could look him up." 

"You could," Jim granted unenthusiastically. 

"What if he's a monster, too?" Blair asked with a sniffle from being wet. 

"Blair..." 

"What if it's genetic?" he asked horrified as the thought struck him. "What about me?" 

"Blair, you're not a monster," Jim assured. "You don't have it in you. For all his faults, even Doctor Sandburg wasn't a monster." 

Blair nodded and shrugged, becoming subdued once again. "He left a message for you," he said after several minutes. 

"He did?" Jim asked worriedly. "What?" 

"He said," Blair coughed once uncomfortably. "He said to tell you not to feel guilty and that you should really get laid more often." Blair turned expectant eyes to Jim. 

"Oh," Jim said as he removed his arm from his Guide's shoulders. "Yeah, well..." 

"You had sex with him." 

Jim hastily blew out a breath, a denial that he couldn't quite get out on the tip of his tongue. 

"It's okay," Blair said calmly. "That's the kind of relationship that they had. I'm sure he pressured you. Jim did the same thing to me in the other reality." 

Jim clenched his jaw for a minute before he could force himself to sound calm. "Did you, um, you know, with him?" he finally managed to ground out. 

"No, he made the invitation, but didn't force the issue. You're a perfect gentleman in both realities," Blair replied with a smirk. "I didn't really think of it until I started having the dreams." 

"Oh." 

"But I think about it now," he admitted, turning to face his Sentinel. 

"Your cast is soaked," Jim declared, looking down ostensibly to examine the cast as a jealous stab stung at his heart. 

"With you, I mean." 

"Oh," Jim said again, a little brighter, looking back up. "Okay." 

"So what did we, um, you guys do?" Blair inquired nervously. 

"Uh, well, he, um..." Jim stammered and made an abortive gesture towards his crotch. 

Blair let out a startled laugh. "How are we ever gonna do it if we can't even talk about it?" he teased. "I mean if you do, want to..." 

"Honest to God, Blair, I thought he was you or I'd never have let him." 

"Let him what? If you can't tell me, then show me," Blair insisted determinedly. 

"Uh uh," Jim protested. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I need to be sure this time." 

Blair wiped at his nose with his sleeve. The shadows were growing longer and the temperature was beginning to drop. "So where does that leave us?" he asked. 

"How about slow and easy?" Jim requested softly. 

"I don't want to push you into anything," Blair offered in an effort to back away and give Jim an out. 

"I love you," Jim said. "Right now that's enough. Anything else is gravy." 

Blair blinked, stunned beyond words, his mouth hanging open. Jim framed his face with gentle hands and leaned in for a chaste kiss. When he released him he pulled Blair's shirt over his head while Blair merely watched. Jim took off his outer shirt and helped Blair into it to help ease the tiny shivers that began to wrack his wet body. 

"I've got to call Simon, but we need to get you home and dry," Jim directed matter-of-factly as he pulled Blair to his feet and picked up the crutches. 

"Jim," Blair finally uttered. 

"And we may have to get that cast changed. I'm just not sure about fiberglass..." 

"Jim," Blair said again, a little firmer. 

"What?" 

"I love you, too," he whispered. 

"I know," Jim sighed peacefully, a beatific smile growing on his face. "Lean on me," he instructed, tucking the crutches under one arm and Blair under the other. Blair wrapped both of his arms around Jim's waist, letting Jim take some of his weight. 

"How slow is slow?" Blair questioned as they made their way unhurriedly towards the door. 

"I don't know. When do you get the cast off?" 

"Six weeks." 

"Oh. Maybe not that slow." 

"But kissing is okay?" 

"Kissing is great," Jim agreed eagerly. 

Blair sighed with relief. "Good." 

"So, do you remember any of Doctor Sandburg's, um, techniques?" 

"Why?" Blair asked suspiciously. 

"No reason. Six days too long?" 

"Can you wait `til we get home?" 

"Maybe," Jim replied earnestly. 

"So how easy is easy?" 

The end 

* * *

End Sweet Child of Mine by Kikkimax: Kikkimax@aol.com

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Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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